


Good Riddance

by Hyacinthus



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Hate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 06:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13607076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthus/pseuds/Hyacinthus
Summary: After Dean Ambrose gets drafted to Smackdown, he seeks out Stephanie McMahon for one last night of fun.





	Good Riddance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



“I’m going to call you back, Mick,” Stephanie says, putting the phone back in its cradle as the last face she wants to see peers around the doorframe. Dean Ambrose grins lazily at her, taking a glance around the room before walking in like he’s been invited. 

“Took me a bit to track you down, boss-lady.” Ambrose saunters towards the end of the conference table she was sitting at, brushing his fingertips on the leatherette chairs. “These the spinny kind? Maybe you and I should give one a try.”

“Get real, Ambrose.” 

“Not a spinny chair? Yeah, bit too silly for the very serious Stephanie McMahon, huh.” Ambrose stops a few feet from her, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

“What do you want, Ambrose?”

“I can’t come to say goodbye?” Ambrose’s back to grinning, an expression Stephanie would like to slap off his face. “Not gonna be seeing you.”

“And my life will be far easier for it. I won’t get complaints about the locker room stinking.”

Ambrose laughs like a wild dog, stepping behind Stephanie’s chair and digging his thumbs into her neck, rubbing in little circles. Stephanie tells herself not to moan, not to relax into the touch - Ambrose may want to play, but she’s not biting.

Ambrose’s next words are whispered into her ear, and Stephanie can’t quite keep the shiver from going down her spine. “Showered after the match with golden boy and everything, just for you.”

One of his hands stops massaging and goes down a little lower, and Stephanie can feel the tug of her zipper being pulled down, the heat of Ambrose’s hand as he goes to unhook her bra.

Stephanie glances towards the front of the room, and Ambrose acts like he knows what she’s thinking. “I ain’t stupid. Door’s locked.”

Stephanie pushes out from under his hands, turning her neck to glare back at him. “Get where you belong, Ambrose.”

Ambrose laughs again, sliding her red dress and bra down with his hands before moving in front of the chair, placing his hands on the armrests.

“Gonna tell the World Heavyweight Champion what to do? Not my boss anymore.” Ambrose grins at her boyishly, hair falling into his eyes before he goes in for a kiss. He tastes like cigarettes, and Stephanie wrinkles her nose, nipping hard at Ambrose’s bottom lip to get him to back off.

When Ambrose pulls away, there’s a bright spot of red on his lip, and his eyes gleam with it. “Showered and I’m still too filthy for you.”

“Everything you do is filthy.” Stephanie stares at him for a long moment, pursing her lips.

“I’m just a dirty guy,” Ambrose agrees genially, wiping his lip with his thumb, looking at his thumbnail before worrying at it with his mouth. His eyes don’t leave Stephanie’s face, watching her expression turn sour - baiting her, Stephanie thinks, and when she opens her mouth she knows she’s going to take it.

“Think of something more useful to do with your mouth, Ambrose.” Stephanie crosses her arms on her naked chest, feeling gratified when Ambrose watches, his hard-on obvious through his jeans.

“Only had to ask.” Ambrose slides one booted foot between her two heels, forcing Stephanie to spread her legs apart to make enough room for Ambrose to go to his knees. Ambrose grins up at her, taking in her expression as he pulls up her dress, making a low groan in his throat when he catches sight of Stephanie’s underwear.

“Red for Raw? You shouldn’t have, Steph.”

Stephanie kicks him with one of her heels, enjoying the groan of pain from Ambrose’s throat. “Didn’t I tell you to do something more useful with your mouth?”

“Yes, boss-lady, ma’am,” Ambrose murmurs, and Steph would kick him again but he’s pulling her - already soaked, god - panties down his hands, pulling them down to her thighs. Their state isn’t lost on Ambrose, whose eyes flicker down, but he doesn’t say anything, just mouths at Steph’s thighs, drawing a line with his tongue.

He plays like that for a minute, stopping just before he gets to where he should be, and Steph suddenly can’t take it anymore, fisting one hand in Ambrose’s hair to force him down. Ambrose’s hair is damp - better be from that shower he said he took - and Steph finds herself gripping on to his scalp with her nails as Ambrose finally takes the hint and licks her.

Her nails have to sting, but that’s not stopping Ambrose from acting like a dog that hasn’t had a good meal in a month, the way he’s going at it. No finesse, but Stephanie can’t deny how the movement of his tongue, the touch of his hands on her thighs, are affecting her. His unkempt beard is rubbing her skin raw and red, and she digs her nails in to get his attention about it.

Ambrose stops for a moment, pulling back. “Something wrong?” His mouth and chin are wet and shiny, moisture in his beard, and Stephanie feels briefly satisfied before she remembers her red thighs. She taps one with the hand not resting on Ambrose’s hair.

Ambrose gets it after a few seconds, and his face breaks into a smile. “Oooh. Can’t let Triple H know what his wife gets up to behind his back, huh.” It’s no question, and Stephanie squeezes hard again for his impertinence.

“How dare you talk about my husband, you trumped up piece of trash.” Her voice comes out in a hiss, trying to hide how aroused she is, playing this little game of theirs. Ambrose just looks amused, a stupid expression on his face.

“He ain’t my boss no more either. ‘Sides, this piece of trash was about to make you come. I guess I could get up and walk away...” Ambrose trails off, looking expectantly up at her, and Stephanie growls and yanks his head back down. She can feel Ambrose laughing up against her, the vibrations of it moving through her skin.

Ambrose licks at her again, his tongue tracing her folds before diving back in to her. She shudders against him, and that encourages him as he licks inside of her, using one of his thumbs to help hold her open. When she starts clenching against him Ambrose moves his mouth to suck at her clit, working his thumb in and out of her, his fingers pressing hard against her thigh. Stephanie comes with her nails tightening in Ambrose’s hair, and he works her through it, leaning back when she’s done.

One of his hands is still on Steph’s thigh, wet with her own fluids, and the other is in his unbuttoned jeans, working himself. Ambrose sighs as he comes into his own hand, and he moves his hand to his mouth after, licking up his own come. His tongue darts out to get the last bit, and he looks self-satisfied after, chilled out.

Even relaxed after her orgasm, Stephanie can’t help but get in another shot. “You’re a pig, Ambrose. Eating your own slop.”

Ambrose stands back up and gives her a tiny bow while he buttons his jeans back up. Steph thinks that’s the end of it, but he steps forward once more, leaning over her.

“Hey, maybe you’ll want me back on Raw someday. To clean up messes.” Ambrose pats her thigh with his big hand, and Stephanie hates that a simple gesture from him can, even after an orgasm, make her wet. “But I guess Seth’ll have to try and satisfy you in the meantime.”

He pecks her cheek, a dry press of lips, before walking away, a hand thrown up in good-bye. Stephanie watches him go, feeling her underwear shift around her knees when she goes to pick the phone back up.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](praetorian-guard.tumblr.com)


End file.
